The door to the VIP suite clicked shut behind Devon with a soft, final thud that seemed to echo down the empty hallway like the closing of a chapter no one wanted to finish.
He lingered there for a long moment, his tall frame motionless, white coat draped loosely over his broad shoulders. He rolled his neck slowly, exhaling a deep, measured breath that carried away the lingering weight of the day.
Inside the suite, security had already taken quiet control. The two officers—dressed in understated civilian clothes to preserve discretion—moved past him with practiced efficiency.
Their voices were low, almost soothing, as they addressed Vivian. "Ma'am, it's time to come with us," the taller one murmured, his hand resting lightly on her elbow like a courteous escort rather than an arrest.
Vivian offered no resistance; she rose unsteadily, tears carving silent paths down her cheeks, her once-impeccable elegance now reduced to trembling fragility.
